


Prison My Eyes

by wreckofherheart



Series: And I Feel Your Warmth, And It Feels Like Home [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/F, Healing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8020240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[<b>Set</b> after the finale of Book 3: Asami follows Korra to the South Pole, instead of staying in Republic City.]</p><p>
  <i>The dream is shattered apart.<br/>Asami holds you around your waist, kissing your mouth; kissing you to sleep. You cling to her, scrunch your eyes shut; tremble in her embrace. She keeps you close in the aftermath of everything.<br/>When you dare yourself to open your eyes, frightened, her gaze is steady.<br/>The back of her hand caresses your face.<br/>Swears to never let you go.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prison My Eyes

 

**-** _clipped wings, I was a broken thing_  
_had a voice, had a voice_  
_but I could not sing_ **-**

 

 

 

 

     You open your eyes, and she’s dressed in white.

A blanket is draped across your shoulders. She whispers to you, and you whisper back; and then you give up. 

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

Your body has lost all sensation. You’re numb. Void of emotion, and you’re dying. As your mind buries a grave, you’re transfixed at the empty future laid before you. This is your reward. Your divine right as a fallen tragedy. 

The name _Avatar_ is stripped away. 

You can’t walk. You can’t think. You can’t eat. You can’t do the slightest thing which makes you _human_. You’re humiliated. You’re furious. You’re _destroyed_ , and you’re helpless. And it’s a lonely chasm you’re trapped in; with no escape. No surface to _breathe_ , and allow your body to _heal_. 

The next time you open your eyes, she’s covered in blood; your beating heart cradled in her hands. The man from your nightmares caresses the sweet organ, and you watch; watch him squeeze your heart. Tighter and tighter, until it bursts––

You jolt awake. Gasping for air. Shuddering in the sheets. 

** x **

     ‘Can you try again?’

‘Let her rest a moment. This will be tiresome.’

You hate Asami’s impatience. You hate Katara’s pity.

Because you’re better than this. _You don’t deserve their affection_. Voices scream in your mind, spiting you. 

_pathetic pathetic_

_so fucking pathetic_

Grabbing the bar, you strain from the agony; your feet touch the floor. And you’re shaking violently, fighting the pain. Beads of sweat roll down your temple, and you stare at your target. All you need to do is walk to the end of the bar. And you can do that. It’s so simple; you can achieve that.

You _will_ achieve that, otherwise shame will consume you whole.

Asami has gone tense. You can sense her concern, and it distracts you. She’s holding her breath, she’s watching too intensely; she’s ready to catch you in case you fall _and it shouldn’t have to be this way_. Katara stands back. She’s familiar with what you are, who you are; she creates a distance, observes while you struggle to take your first step.

The stab of pain is indescribable. You slide one foot forward, and gasp out. Stumble. Your hand slips from the bar, and your legs surrender. And then you’re tumbling. You barely made a single step, and the _great_ Avatar lost. The fight has come to an abrupt end, and you’re forced to lick your sore wounds––

––But Asami catches you.

_She trembles too. She can’t handle the sight either._

_She can’t._

Tears sting your eyes when she helps you to the wheelchair. As soon as you’re seated, you look away from her. Your heart is racing from exhaustion and anger, and you’re _maddened_. What did you do to deserve this? Why can’t you _walk_? What _happened_ to you?

‘It’s okay. Rest a little.’

She’s so soft, so sweet and kind. 

And you scold her for that: ‘Don’t tell me what I need to do!’

Katara raises a brow. Asami backs away slightly, and a part of you wants her to leave. Wants her to hate you; slap you across the face for talking to her in such a horrific manner. 

But Asami stays put. She’s not going anywhere, and her stubbornness nearly makes you burst into tears.

‘We need to keep at this,’ Katara says. Calm. You look at her. Expect to witness disapproval in her eye. Even she knows you’ve acted cruelly. However, Katara is much too wise to stoop to judgement. ‘I know you’re tired, but you’re close, Korra. You can do this, _as long as_ you set your mind to the task. Are you prepared?’

‘Of course I am,’ you retort. 

Bitter thing, you have become. You barely recognise your own voice. Katara nods, and even _smiles_. ‘Very good. I’m going to fetch you some water.’ _I’ll leave you two alone._ You lower your gaze, turn away; wait until Katara has left the cabin. Tighten your clenched fist. 

_He’s there._

_Haunting you. He’s always there._

_With his gentle face, squeezing the life out of you––_

‘Korra. You did so well.’

A lie. You owe her everything for lying, for trying to make you _believe_. Instead, you snort at her words. ‘Yeah, right. You _must_ be easy to impress.’ There’s a long silence. One day, it’ll be the last. The last straw, and she’ll be done with you. Then you can disappear into your own misery.

‘Well,’ Asami says, ‘If you want me _thrilled_ , you’ll have to try harder.’

She stands. You frown at her remark. The backfire. ‘Are you going to leave me now?’

_Yes. Say yes._

_Leave me._

_Get this over with. Do what you’ve wanted to do ever since you agreed to follow me here._

Asami brushes a hand past your shoulder. You feel her absence, and it’s the first time you’ve felt truly guilty. 

‘Try harder,’ she whispers. 

You hear her footsteps, hear as they grow fainter and fainter. Peering over your shoulder, you watch while she walks out of the cabin, and into the cold.

** x **

_More corpses litter the earth._

_Your ears bleed from the sound of nails being drilled into the coffin._

_And he stands above you, eyes warm and dark––holding your body while the toxic feasts on you. The fire burns your skin, and all the oxygen is stolen from your lungs. He holds you fiercely, so tight, your ribs are crushed._

_Blood pours from your eyes._

_When you scream, nobody but him can hear––_

‘Stop, stop, _get away from me_!’ You grab at his face, desperate to tear his skin, but your fingers touch the air. _Nothing_. 

Terrified, you search for him; tug at whatever you can find. But you’re blind, you’re deaf, and you’re breathing too fast. Your pulse races.

Then someone, finally, takes your hands. You scream. Defenceless, so terrified, you’re paralysed in place. _He has come to kill you. He has come to finish you off and you’re going to die_ ––

Your hands are suddenly released, and you’re embraced. 

You open your eyes.

It’s dark. So dark, and, for a second, you’re worried you’ve lost your sight.

All of your senses hit. A magnitude of emotion drowns you to the point of tears. That’s when you feel her. Feel her arms around you, your head on her chest; how dearly she grips onto you. Whispering how it’ll be okay. _It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. I got you. I’ve got you._

_I’ve got you, Korra._

‘Asami?’ Your voice cracks. You bury your face into her gown, and cry. She holds you more securely, allows you to rest against her while you weep. And she tells you over and over–– _it’s okay to cry. Everything, everything, will be fine. I promise._

_I’m so, so sorry._

Nothing will hurt you here.

She strokes your face, wipes your tears, and you reach for her. Grab her collar, and _need_ her. She lets you cry, lets you tremble in her arms, and she cries too. Tears roll down her cheeks while she watches, waits; waits until you’ve found your breath, until it’s not scary anymore. Until you’re okay.

You’re afraid of the dark.

Afraid of what creatures lie beneath your bed.

But it’s okay. 

It’s okay to be alive.

When she falls into the sheets, she takes you with her. You rest your head on her chest, exhale; she runs her fingers through your hair. Traces light patterns down your back, and up again. Soothes you, stays close. 

You may dream again, _find him again_ , but it doesn’t matter. You’ll be safe, you’ll be heard, locked in an embrace which refuses to shatter.

** x **

     It’s for you. Just for you. Somehow, Asami has added a few improvements to your wheelchair. The chair rises slightly, allowing you to stand easier; take your time with your first step. Catch your fall in case you don’t have the strength. 

You ask how long it took her, but she refuses to answer.

Days, your father allows. He’s smiling. And he tells you she hasn’t slept since. Spending hours upon hours working. 

All for you.

‘She’s kind, isn’t she?’

Kind is an understatement. 

‘ _An angel_ ,’ you confess.

When you try again––stand again––your legs tremble, and the strain is a little too much. But you’re going to try. Everybody around you is trying. _And you have to try_. Holding the bar, you inhale sharply, and use all the energy you have to take that _first_ step. 

It’s more than you can handle at the moment. But you resist. 

Slip your other foot forward. 

You’re already running out of breath, your lungs feel crushed; desperate for air, however you’re not going to stop. When you take another step, your knees buckle; your arms weaken, and Katara is encouraging you to end it here. You’ve done plenty. Now don’t be stupid and get yourself hurt––

––the next step you make is your last, and she catches you before you fall.

‘I told you.’

‘Sorry.’

Back in your wheelchair, you look up at her. She’s shaking her head. ‘Foolish.’ Butthen, she laughs; and you know you’ve made her proud.

** x **

     Eventually you’re able to Waterbend again, manipulate fire, the air. But as you call out to your past selves, you hear no answer in return. They’ve abandoned you, and you’ve been rendered speechless. Your voice has been stolen, and your soul damaged. You can no longer reach for them, smile at their faces; all you hear is the quiet, and you hate every second.

You are no longer the Avatar.

The cape stripped away. The name a scar in your mind.

Gone.

Death may not have taken your life, but everything else instead.

** x **

     The weather is much too chilly for her, but she doesn’t buckle. She outstretches her hand for you to take, and you’re in awe. The snow dances around her, kisses her cheeks, and she’s smiling as if you’re the last person on earth. As if you’re the most significant. Her most important. 

You look at her hand. Back at her, unsure. 

‘Trust me,’ she says.

And you do.

So, you hold her hand, and she carefully lifts you from the wheelchair. The snow feels cold, sharp on your bare feet; and _you can feel it_. You can _feel_ the cold, how it stings your flesh, and it’s the most wonderful sensation. You exhale, grip onto her hand tightly. 

Asami encourages you to lean most of your weight on her. Snowflakes melt on your overcoat, and when you look at her, beaming and wide eyed, you realise you’re both trembling. Both amazed that you can stand, can _feel_ the snow; and it’s the first time you’ve felt so alive. 

_You_ **_are_ ** _alive._

And not everybody has abandoned your side. You glance at your hand in hers, squeeze affectionately, and she rests her head to yours. It has taken weeks, _weeks_ of tears and agony–– _but you’re standing_. She might be holding you, _but you’re standing, and you can_ **_feel_ ** _the snow. How soft, cold and delicate it is between your toes._

_This is not a dream._

_You can_ **_feel_ ** _._

_Living._

You smile, laughing in disbelief, and the sound of your joy makes her cry.

** x **

     She doesn’t write home.

Writing home means family.

Means family waits for her, somewhere. 

Asami doesn’t talk about her mother very much, but when she does, you hold her close; and her heart _pours_ with sweet sorrow. 

** x **

     The Avatar can’t fight, cannot manage the full extent of her abilities, and, eventually, you grow frustrated with yourself. You _throw_ water as it bursts from the centre of your palms, crashing into the wall. Fire escapes your body and its _anger_ radiates through your bones. Fire and water meet in a horrifying rage, as horrific as your tormented soul.

You abuse yourself to the point of collapsing. 

_You can’t do this. You can’t win. You can’t be the girl you once were. You’re hopeless, weak, and there is not a thing you can do._

It sends you down a spiral of twisted torment. _Hating_ yourself. Loathing your very existence. You failed. You have been made a _wreck_. Torn and pulled and bruised and bleeding. The only fragments which remain of you are the wounds. The nightmares which grin at your pain.

The heat of the room makes her gasp; water splashes beneath her feet, and she finds you; stops you before your hurt yourself again. She grabs your wrists, ties them in her hands, and she _begs you to stop._ Stop doing this. Stop doing this to yourself. Stop doing this awful, awful torture. 

_You don’t deserve it._

_You’re aching enough––_

_––you’re making everybody around you_ **_bleed_ ** _._

Something forces you to surrender. You drop your hands, scrunch your eyes shut, and you’re sorry. Sorry for losing your mind all over again. Sorry for everything. Sorry you’ve become such a pathetic mess. 

But she’s not having any of it. She’s _furious_. 

‘What if you hurt yourself even more?! What then?’ 

You’ve never heard her raise her voice. And you’re amazed. Shocked. Wide eyed, and watching her in shock. What have you done? Why have you done this? 

_Why do you wound those who love you most?_

Fool. You foolish, silly girl.

‘ _What am I supposed to do if you leave me?_ ’

You’re shaken. You’ve lost your breath, and your heart stops. 

Palms sore from the fire and water. Body trembling at Asami’s words, the fear pouring from her eyes. _How much she begs. Begs for you to stop. To keep trying._ How she refuses to leave your side. Your friend. Your best friend. The last person in the world who has gifted you with _patience_.

Tears sting your eyes, and you let them loose. 

‘I am weak, Asami.’ Your voice is dead. Lifeless. ‘I can’t enter my Avatar state anymore. What use am I now?’

She manages to regain her composure slightly. Calm down. She exhales, and looks at you again; gaze fixed. Certain. ‘You are _not_ a weapon, Korra.’ Then, her shoulders drop, and she kneels before you. Exhausted. Tired of the fights she’s trying to win for you. ‘You don’t have to be anything––and how much we love you is not equated to how much _use_ you are to us.’

‘This is all I’ve wanted, though. I just––’ You voice catches. ‘––I just want to protect people. It’s what I’m good at. And now I’ve lost that.’

‘Korra, that’s not true.’ She places a hand on your knee. ‘You don’t have to be _anything_ in order to care for those you love. I know you: and you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. No title can take that away from you.’

You say nothing. Speechless. 

But you know she’s right. The title is worthless. It means _nothin_ g _._

_What matters is_ **_who_ ** _you are, not_ **_what_ ** _._

And the person you are now may not be as powerful, but she’s still _you_. She still cares, still loves; and not a single defeat can erase that fact. 

_It’s okay to heal._

Gently, you run your fingers through her hair, and kiss her forehead. She takes both of your hands, presses her lips to your palm; and your heart soars for this woman. This perfect wonder.

** x **

     As you lay there, your back against the headboard, a flame dances at your fingertips. It shudders when you exhale, terrified by your presence; the amount of power you hold. 

With just the slightest flick of your wrist, the flame will disappear forever. 

Or, it could explode. Multiply by a thousand.

Burn you alive.

Yet you are _controlled_. And you admire its beauty. How it changes colour: from red, to yellow, to a warm blue. The heat in the flame rises, but you remain unscathed. Carefully, you extend the flame, and allow it to twirl; over and over. It’s a beautiful performance, and you’re transfixed. 

Lost in a daydream.

‘What’re you reading?’

Asami looks up at your question, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. ‘Hm?’

You extinguish the flame. Meet her gaze. ‘What’re you reading?’

A booklet of notes is spread out before Asami on the table, and she’s been glued to the words for the past hour. Asami removes her glasses. Closes the booklet and walks over to you. Your eyes follow her, and a small smile reaches your lips when she sits beside you.

‘It’s a diary.’

‘Yours?’

‘No. Here; take a look.’

The handwriting is messy, but fairly legible. The writer describes the night, lying awake; their thoughts driving them insane. How their fantastic abilities are no longer in their grasp. What it feels like to fall. To stumble, and endure the traumatic height of any mountain. 

To lose a war.

When his knees snap beneath him, and he’s reduced to tears. Belittled into a tiny child, in need of a cuddle. Be that from a mother, father, a sibling––a lover. To crave the touch of another soul. To be wanted, loved. What selfish desires they are. Certainly not the way of any decent warrior.

But, she–– _the love of his life_ ––touches him; kisses his aching heart.

His light in a dark, dark realm.

‘Does Katara know you stole this?’

‘Stole?’ Asami laughs. ‘I’d never. She knows how much you’re struggling, and wanted me to know what you have already been through.’ You blink. _Already been through_. Asami is aware of your past lives, the other Avatars before you. And she’s aware of who Katara is. 

What you and Katara share together, so deeply engraved in your soul.

You smile crookedly. ‘She must like you.’

Asami shrugs. ‘We get along. I suppose it’s obvious why.’

It hits you, _brutally_ , that you want to kiss her.

She says no more. You return the diary, and your mind races with her final words. 

It is obvious why Katara would trust somebody like Asami.

Loving the Avatar takes its toll. 

But it’s worth it. Every second.

The flame ignites in the centre of your hand, and you both reflect in silence. Asami is soon lost in Avatar Aang’s poetry, and, from the corner of your eye, you observe her read. Feel every part of you grow warm with affection.

** x **

_‘I am trying to understand_ **_why_ ** _this happened to me, but nothing makes any sense! I’m tired, Katara. I’m_ **_so_ ** _tired.’_

_‘Korra, I know you feel alone right now. But, you’re not the first Avatar who’s had to overcome great suffering. Can you imagine how much pain Aang felt when he learnt that his_ **_entire culture_ ** _had been taken from him?’_

_‘… that––that must have been so awful…’_

_‘But, he never let it destroy his spirit. He chose to find meaning in his suffering, and eventually––found peace.’_

_‘And… what am I going to find out if… I get through this?’_

_‘I don’t know. But won’t it be interesting to find out?’_

** x **

     Finally.

Finally, you’re able to walk, without any kind of assistance. 

Every now and again, Katara has to step in; hold your arm in case you slip. But she’s a smart teacher, and she wants _you_ to do this. So, she observes from afar. Not a word comes from her while she witnesses your pain, your struggle, but the moment you reach the end of the bar, she rejoices. 

‘I told you. _I told you_!’

Hearing your success, Naga stirs from her dozing, and nuzzles your cheek. You grin ear-to-ear, lean into her, and then you feel Katara’s hand on your shoulder. She says you’ve done well, you’ve done _so_ well, and you’ll be ready soon. Ready to walk again, ready to fight.

Just as he was.

‘ _Thank you_ ,’ you say. _‘For_ **_everything_ ** _that you’ve given me._ ’

You embrace her, and your heart swells with life. 

** x **

     Word spreads quickly within the tiny village. You’re met by your parents, and your mother can’t let you go––speechless beyond words that you’ve managed to overcome what has dragged you down all these months. 

However, while you might be able to take tiny steps; go so far, that doesn’t mean you’re still capable of fighting. 

‘ _That is not something to worry over yet_.’

You trust Katara, her words, and you nod. For now, celebrate what you have; _enjoy it_. 

Raising your head, you take another hesitant step forward; the snow burying your boots. You hear somebody running over, and you recognise her immediately. Long, billowing dark hair. Tall. 

Smiling.

Outstretching your arms, you catch Asami in a hug, and your joy at seeing her gets the better of you. You hug her so passionately, you lift her slightly from the snow. She embraces you tightly, kisses your cheek, cradles your face in her hands. Proud. So _proud_ of you. 

‘I never doubted you, Korra.’

She truly is wonderful. 

Oh, you would give her the _world_ if you could.

‘ _I know_ ,’ you whisper. 

** x **

     The joy of balance is too much to bear sometimes. 

And she’s so _bright_. A flower, blooming vividly around you. You cherish her, adore her presence, and your heart burns.

You like to meet her in an embrace. Lift her off the floor, and spin her around.

She laughs, hanging onto you fiercely; bumps her nose against yours. And you grin, adore her; the glee dancing in her eyes. 

You’re both youths again, visiting a childhood that was stolen the moment you were born.

** x **

     Afterwards, you keep _going_. You ease yourself into your Airbending, allow your mind to adjust to what your abilities demand. 

Sometimes, it’s hard. 

Sometimes, when you’re lost in the flow of your movements, you picture him. _Zaheer_. His face, his eyes; how his hands come around your throat––

_suffocating_

––and sometimes, another monster.

_Yourself._

_The most repulsive image. A nightmare, clawing your mind._

When your father trains with you, it’s easier. You have a distraction. And your father is kind, patient and optimistic. He believes in you, and he’s willing to go as far as it takes in order for his daughter to heal. 

Both of you take turns. He plays the defence for an hour, then you do. This allows you to regain your inner strength, as well as physical. Allows you to reconnect with your bending, and how nature flows through your body. You train for days, and days; strenuous evenings and mornings spent being solely active.

To the point of making old wounds ooze with blood.

‘Don’t push yourself,’ Katara advices one afternoon. She’s heard about your enthusiasm, and even she thinks there must be a limit. ‘Don’t _break_ yourself when you’ve come so far.’

You promise not to. 

Not now.

Even so, your determination is difficult to shake. You can just about stand, nearly walk without having to rest, but you have always been the Avatar. Ever since you were a toddler, fighting is what you’ve lived for. 

You could bend water before you could talk. 

Not that it makes a difference. At eighteen, you still struggle to find your voice. 

The fire hits the target flawlessly, and you rid of the flames with water. Swirling around the target, and hurling into it like a ferocious wave. Your side stings, and you know another wound has opened again. Fresh blood seeps through your bandage. You quietly curse, pressing a palm to your injury. 

‘Again, Korra?’

Jolting in surprise, you turn. Asami is giving you a look, and you blush.

‘Don’t tell Katara.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘I won’t. I should, though.’

‘I’m only training.’

‘I think it’s time you stopped.’

‘Another few minutes. I’ll be done. Promise.’

‘You promise, huh?’

‘Pinky.’

Asami sighs heavily. ‘I guess I can’t convince you otherwise, can I?’

‘Guess not.’ You grin. ‘Better luck next time.’ Believing you’ve won the banter, you return to facing your target. It barely stands now, you’ve made such a wreck of it. But you’re keen, and you’re not finished yet. 

You move your hands so they face each other, and you create a heated amount of energy between them. A sphere of water is created; you wait until it’s large enough, before elegantly darting it towards the target. Liquid splashes everywhere once it hits the surface, and you’re about to start again, until you feel her.

Gentle, across your wound. Blood catches her skin, and she caresses it–– _you_. 

Then everything stills.

You stare ahead, immobile; and your mind goes foggy. Her warmth envelops you whole, and you exhale; lower your hands. 

_You can hear the blades drop._

_Clatter against the floor._

_The forfeit._

She steps closer, and then she’s kissing your neck. Tender. Soft. So light against your skin, you gasp. Her breath is warm, rushed across your cheek; and you nearly collapse from how heavenly she feels against your body.

All the strain in your limbs evaporate. You focus on the sensation of her lips on your skin, delicate and so gentle. As if the slightest touch might break you all over again. You’re fragile beneath her touch, and there’s something about your vulnerability which makes you shudder. 

Her palm passes your wound, and you turn around; look at her. She exhales, brushes her lips against yours. 

It nearly makes you collapse, and you _need_ her closer. You breathe into her, reach for her; tug slightly. You press your lips to hers, and moan softly. 

All the thoughts whirling in your mind haze over, and you’re aware of nothing but the girl you’re kissing.

You’re delirious, blind; utterly gone. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss; parting your lips with her tongue. A sigh escapes you, and you lean into her. Feel her hands around your hips, spreading across your back. Holding your aching body into hers; your own protector. 

‘Asami.’

‘It’s okay,’ she whispers. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

The two of you kiss again. And again. A shudder travel up your spine at the sensation of her fingers through your hair. Pulling gently; nipping at your lower lip. Teasing you. _Wanting you_. You’re gasping for breath, smiling; nervous, excited. Happy. Just happy for what you both have created.

More than you could ever imagine.

‘Take me to bed.’

She’s a lullaby to your ears. Trapped in such euphoria, you lose your breath. Search for her hand, and then the battlefield is abandoned. Suddenly, the fighting means so much less. Suddenly, you’ve forgotten your title, what is expected of you; and it’s just you, and it’s just Asami.

Exactly as it should be.

** x **

     The sheets feel like silk, wrapped around your naked bodies. She kisses your wounds. Nurses you to health. _Loves you_ , and you moan, _sigh_ , let her take you, and she’s amazing. Her lips are as delicate as petals, and she cradles you; holds you and holds you, and you feel like the safest girl in the world.

When you press into her, feel her; _touch her_ , she kisses your shoulder, your cheeks. Touches your face, and smiles up at you. You swallow your moans in kisses, and you both rock into each other; reach a white bliss which will leave you both trembling. 

And she’s gorgeous, beautiful, lovely––

––she’s _everything_. 

She holds you in her warm arms, and holds you _as you are––_ broken and damaged and _haunted_ ––and she _loves_ you. 

‘ _Korra_.’

Whispered, locked in a frenzied confession.

** x **

_Eyes wide. Bones smashed to pieces. Your heart bleeding through._

_Zaheer swears on your death. His cold hands pressing into your flesh. You turn your head away. Disgusted. Repulsed. Terrified beyond words. But what you see next is a creature forbidden from love._

_A girl. A silly girl, colourless eyes; a dead spirit. She touches you, fingertips passing your cheek, and you cry out. The poison decays every organ in your body. You want to collapse. You want to shut your eyes, and block out these devastating faces from your head._

_Why? Why won’t they go away?_

_leave me leave me leave me_

_You’re_ **_begging_ ** ––

––The dream is shattered apart. 

Asami holds you around your waist, kissing your mouth; kissing you to sleep. You cling to her, scrunch your eyes shut; tremble in her embrace. She keeps you close in the aftermath of everything.

When you dare yourself to open your eyes, frightened, her gaze is steady. 

The back of her hand caresses your face.

Swears to never let you go.

** x **

     Shadows loom in your dream. You paint a man with warm eyes, and a tainted soul; drowning in a vessel of hatred. 

You paint a woman, kind and sweet; but her head is low, and she waits. Waits for a lover to return. The burns _blistering_ her skin.

Crimson weighs heavily on her shoulders. 

A rose. 

Tender on your lips.

** x **

     You meditate for the first time in days, and you’re _released_. Sent to another realm, of tranquility, peace; where voices are kind. Advise you on the next step. 

One of few places in which you can _think_. Mend your tattered soul. Find your footing. _To keep going when the world is so dismantled._

When you stir, return to reality, you smile at her. She rests her head in your lap, has waited for hours until you would come back to her. 

‘My love.’

Asami reaches for you, caresses your cheek, and you smile.

** x **

     It’s so cold, her teeth chatter and her breath comes out in puffs of mist.

She stands opposite you, _together_ , and you’ve both lost track of time. Uncertain as to how many months have passed since you last entered Republic City. You wonder if it’s how it was. If everybody is the same, or completely different. If maybe you should run away, Asami by your side.

But she must return. She has her father’s business to handle, and the esteemed engineer has many ideas to create. Machinery must be born. Prepared for whatever war awaits them. 

Her nose is pink, cheeks the colour of scarlet, and a blue scarf is draped around her neck. She stands, tense from the cold, reluctance ghosting in her dark eyes, and you wonder what she’s thinking.

What brilliance runs through her sweet head.

You promise to find her in Republic City. When you’re ready. When you’ve fully recovered. When you’re prepared to owe her all that she has given to you. 

She says good bye quietly; hesitant and sad.

Not quite certain if she’s ever felt this way before.

You can’t help yourself. You whisper her name–– _Asami_ ––and kiss her soft, chapped lips. 

She tastes of snow.

 

 


End file.
